


I've Got a Dark Alley and a Bad Idea That Says You Should Shut Your Mouth

by doctorwhowatchesthewatchmen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, I should not be allowed to write, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-25
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-11-10 16:44:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/468476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorwhowatchesthewatchmen/pseuds/doctorwhowatchesthewatchmen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles' jeep ends up at the bottom of the lake, and after saving Derek's life--again--Derek throws him up against another wall in a dark alley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Guys I have no idea what I'm doing with this, I just started writing it okay. The title is the title of a Fall Out Boy song with from Under The Cork Tree, which is what I've been listening to as I've been writing this. Un-Beta'd.  
> Disclaimer: I'm just playing with their toys, no promises I'll put them away though. All rights belong to their respective owners, this is just for fun.

Somehow Stiles' jeep ended up in a lake. Derek wouldn't acknowledge it, wouldn't even say thank you to Stiles for pulling his wolfy ass out of the vehicle before they went too far under. Stiles: 2 Water: 0 Thanks: -4 Yeah. And any other time Stiles would be stoked to be all in the Alpha's face about the fact that he just saved his ass yet again, but this time he just wasn't feeling the showboating. Maybe part of it was the fact that it was almost midnight and he was soaking wet walking down a dark street with an Alpha werewolf. He felt equally terrified and safe and confused as fuck. 

As of late his conversations with said sourwolf were not...tinged with mutual hate and sarcasm? Well, sarcasm that wasn't his own. There was just something about how they were talking to each other that didn't feel right. Like, he would say things and he would expect Derek to reply (or not reply as he was wont to do) with some biting remark or sneer or something other than soft eyes and sympathetic smiles and understanding. Seriously though, when did Derek freaking Hale become understanding of anything? _I mean, yeah okay it is better to have this dude on my side rather than on the opposing team_.

They turned a corner onto another dimly lit street. Thoughts were racing through Stiles' mind now that his brain was warm enough to actually function again. What was he going to tell his dad? What was he going to tell his insurance company? Oh god they should have just stayed there and called the police. But once Derek was on dry land he pulled Stiles to his feet, made sure he was breathing, and then pressed him to start walking. That had been a solid twenty minutes ago, and with Derek and his long ass legs and Stiles damn near running to keep up with his fast pace they were well away from the lake by now. 

Stiles felt around in his pocket for his phone...which was still in the jeep. Along with his wallet. Thankfully though, his house keys were still in his jeans pocket, so if nothing else when he got home he wouldn't have to wake up his dad to ask him to unlock the door, he'd just have to wake him up to tell him that his jeep is at the bottom of the lake. Yeah, that should go over well.

"You okay?" Derek's voice startles him. He hadn't said a word since the lake and the street was so quiet...Stiles had honestly thought they would walk the whole way in silence. Well. Maybe not total silence. There's only so much of that he can take at a time, but he didn't think that Derek, of all people, would be the one to break the silence. Especially in a situation like this. 

"I'm fine. You?" Stiles screwed up his face. What? Obviously he's okay he's a fucking werewolf, hello. His healing powers make him most certainly okay at like, all times. And no, no he is not okay. His jeep is at the bottom of a fucking lake. Put his Camero at the bottom of the lake and ask him if he's okay. Besides he's not the one who's going to go home to his father--probably after 1 am--and tell him, "Hey dad guess what? My jeep? It's at the bottom of a lake. But don't worry I saved Derek Hale's life, even though he's still considered to be creepy and dangerous and possibly a murderer. While I'm at it, did you know he's a werewolf? Yeah, Scott, too. Yeah Derek's the Alpha and Scott's in his pack and I'm just their go to guy for information on nearly all things deadly and werewolf-y."

Stiles groaned internally. He was so dead.

Derek stayed quiet, and pensive, and brooding and whatever other synonym there was for being freakishly silent whilst looking like someone killed his puppy. It was really starting to annoy Stiles. Normally it wasn't so bad, he could just fill the silence himself. He was used to doing that, he was good at that, no matter what the expense was on anyone else's sanity. And suddenly Stiles was worried. Worried because Derek was talking to him in the jeep. Nothing too deep, just chatting, catching him up on stuff with Scott and the pack and Jackson and stuff he was invested in, but not around to see. Derek was about to change the subject when everything went to hell in a hand-basket. 

"Derek." Stiles tried sound meek and quiet, but it came out more...upset than he'd meant it to. 

"What Stiles?" The Alpha huffed, turning to look Stiles in the face. 

"What were you going to talk to me about before...well before things went to shit?" Stiles gestured back towards the lake. Not that Derek needed the visual aide, but just because gesticulation helped Stiles relax when the very real possibility of Derek wolfing out and killing him were near the forefront of his mind.

Derek, however, did nothing. In fact, he froze. But then he rolled his eyes and kept walking. Huh. Just another tick under the Weird Derek Behavior box that has seen so much action these past few weeks. 

Except now it's gotten under Stiles' skin because he remembered seeing Derek's face in his rear view mirror, how serious he looked. Derek always had that super serious look to his face but, they weren't talking about anything super serious, so unless what he was about to say was, he shouldn't have had his super serious Derek face on. 

"No, I mean it. What were you going to say? If you think I don't notice when you're acting weird, you're wrong, and this...this definitely counts as acting weird because I know you had something important to say, so you should just spit it out." Stiles held his breath for a moment, steeling himself for a punch in the face or being thrown up against a wall. When nothing happened Stiles started breathing again, but with trepidation. He really, really didn't want to die a virgin at the hands of a werewolf who would never see jail time for his murder.

"I..." Derek started to say, his shoulders squared and head high, he seemed to deflate as he continued, "It doesn't matter. I answered my own question." Something about Derek's tone sent a pang of guilt through Stiles. Well that's weird, he thought. 

Derek started walking again, and the urge to be annoying surged in Stiles once again. "So, do you think my insurance will cover me? I mean, there's not a whole lot I remember aside from pulling your ass out of the jeep and technically I'm not even supposed to be associating with you so it's not like I can ask for a witness statement from you...," Stiles trailed off. Derek was side eyeing him hard, in a not 'I'm-going-to-kill-you' way which was probably the most unnerving thing that he's done, ever...aside from maybe that one time he deflated a basketball with his claws, that was pretty disturbing...and maybe physical stuff aside, too. 

"Seriously dude, what's going on with you? You're are freaking me out. More than normal, okay, and the difference between normal with you and normal with other people is pretty significant once you've done the comparisons." This time Stiles did not brace himself for any impact of any kind and so when Derek charged at him, Stiles did not have enough time to run, nor to brace himself for the impact that was Actual Werewolf Derek Hale. 

They were in a dark alley and he was so so so confused about what the fuck was happening because hello, what was he just saying about normal? Albeit this is probably the most normal thing he's done around Stiles in weeks. Getting thrown up against the a wall? Normal. A nicer more gentle Derek? Obviously he's been replaced by a clone or maybe he's an auton who just thinks he's Derek Hale and the actual Derek Hale is trapped in another dimension...or something. Shit, with everything else going on lately, it really wouldn’t surprise him.

What did surprise him though was Derek, all up in his personal space. Like right up next to his face, which okay, yeah Derek's been in this relative vicinity before, more than once, but mostly out of anger or pain, and even though Derek's default setting is annoyed/irritated, he doesn't look angry. No...he looked...scared, of all things. He had one hand clenched in Stiles' shirt, the other on the brick wall behind Stiles, and he leaned in farther and just breathed for a minute. Stiles got shivers when he felt Derek's warm breath on his neck, he was positive there were goosebumps up and down his neck like he knew there were on his arms.

"Um, Derek?" Stiles' voice quavered and cracked as he addressed the alpha standing over him. 

Derek spoke into his neck, his lips ghosting over the gooseflesh, "Shut up, Stiles."

Stiles let out a nervous laugh, "You see I would because this is," his voice cracked as Derek lightly pressed his warm mouth against his cold skin, "...I would but I kind of can't because we're both drenched and you just dragged me into a dark alley--"

"Pushed, but go on." Derek interrupted.

"What?" Stiles, his breath hitched when he felt teeth scrape over the exposed skin of his neck.

"I pushed you into a dark alley, I didn't drag you." He sounded oddly calm for, well, for Derek Hale.

"Because that makes such a difference." Stiles would have rolled his eyes if it weren't for the hesitant touch of something wet against jaw. Was he...? He was. Derek Hale was freaking licking him. Stiles, whose hands had been carefully tucked to his side, brought one up to hesitantly touch Derek's chest. 

Derek, sourwolf that he is, must have thought he was trying to push him off--which in all honesty is probably what he should have been doing but, yeah no, that wasn't going to happen--because Derek gripped his shirt tighter and actually growled into the curve of neck. Stiles couldn't have formed a coherent sentence if he tried because all of the blood necessary for higher cognition was rushing south and wow, yeah, okay he was totally sporting a boner now. So, in the absence of verbal communication, he grabbed Derek's shirt, tugging him closer. 

Derek kissed along his jaw. Stiles wanted to kiss him, was ready for Derek to kiss him already. That was where this was headed right? So then, whey didn't Derek just get to it? Stiles wanted to complain when Derek pulled away, straightened himself up, and looked at him with a strange expression.

"I'm not going to kiss you, Stiles." He said plainly. Stiles made a low, pitiful whine in his throat because higher thought still had not returned to him. "Yet." Derek added, and that made Stiles feel a little bit better, if no less confused. 

What the fuck was going on? This was going to take Stiles a while to get his head around, not just the whole werewolf-all-up-on-him, Derek-Hale-licking-him thing, but also the whole whoa-why-did-I-like-that thing. And since when did Derek even like him? When the fuck did that happen? Okay, thoughts returning, speech still incapacitated, but coherent thoughts were returning. 

"Come on. I'm sure you're dad is starting to worry about you." Derek motioned for him to stand up (had he slid down?) and leave the alley. Derek wrapped an arm around his shoulder, his shirt was still wet because you know, the whole "cotton kills" thing, it stays wet for a long time, and Stiles was sure that if he were to inspect his shirt closer he would find holes in the stretched out fabric from where Derek was gripping it too tight.

"So...are you going to tell me what that was all about?" Stiles asked, his voice coming out much higher than normal. He wanted to go on, keep the questions rolling because now there were so many in his head and there wasn't enough space and too much silence and god how could Derek just stand there and act like...oh. It was because nothing had happened. 

Stiles answered his own question, this was all just Derek getting something out of his system, or something along those lines. But if it was that then why wouldn't he kiss him? And why would he say not yet? Stiles pouted as they walked on in silence.

Derek coughed as they turned a corner, headlights from an oncoming car made his eyes shine Alpha red for a moment. "Stiles, I..." he stopped walking and looked down at his feet, "I like you, Stiles." 

Oh. Had Stiles been holding his breath? Had he expected--well, had expected anything from this man, really?--to be played around with? Was there a lot of tension in Stiles' shoulders that magically disappeared? Possibly. Maybe. Definitely.

"Okay." Was all he could squeak out. 

Derek shook his head, "I like you, and I don't want," he cleared his throat and looked out across the street, "I don't want to...impose. I mean, I know we haven't always exactly seen eye to eye, on almost anything, but...I owe you my life, Stiles. And not just because you've saved my ass a few times. I want..."

Derek cut himself off, he looked so goddamn vulnerable and fuck, Stiles had never seen him this way before, not even when he was on his fucking deathbed did Derek Hale ever look so vulnerable. 

"We could hang out sometime. Get to know each other better, and work from there? Obviously we'll have to take your car because mine is sleeping with fish." Stiles supplied. Derek wasn't a bad guy, and yeah deep, deep down there was a lot of attraction there, but Stiles never thought, even for a moment would he be able to act on it, to have any of those urges and feelings be mutual. 

"Sleeping with the fishes." Derek corrected. He didn't seem so vulnerable anymore, but he wasn't his normal irate self, he seemed...relieved, there was even a threat of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He started walking again, and so did Stiles. Good thing too because he was going to freeze his balls off if he didn't get out of these wet clothes soon.

"Fish. The plural of fish is fish. Like deer is the plural of deer." Stiles said, glancing at the alpha to gauge his reaction. He wrinkled his nose and retorted, "But that's not how the saying goes, it's 'sleeping with the fishes'."

"Do you really want to argue grammar with me? You will lose, I'll tell you this now." Stiles laughed, probably his first honest to goodness laugh in a long time. It must have done some good because a smile broke out across Derek's face and Stiles' had to stop for a second because he felt for the first time he was truly seeing Derek's face. And it was beautiful. 


	2. Teen Idle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Stiles were the sappy type--which he is not--he would have sat down and written some really bad angsty poetry about how people shouldn’t be such asshats and actually follow through with the plans they may or may not have agreed to make. Really, like Stiles would do that though. Like, no.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> un-beta'd because i wrote it at 3 am i'm so, so sorry  
> disclaimer: i don't own these characters and i'm pretty sure i'm not even doing them justice so let me just lie down and cry i'm sorry

Days after his jeep went to hell, do did everything else. Scott drama, wolf pack shenanigans, and once (or twice) Stiles wound up in some serious danger type situations (and one lead to a serious injury type situation as well but no biggie, he's young, he'll bounce back).

****

It had been weeks, and those weeks turned into months since Stiles' jeep found itself a new parking space at the bottom of a lake, and the little crush Stiles had been harboring turned into ... well, a mess. Derek Hale, the inhuman, emotionally constipated, over sized twelve year old that he is hadn't so much as looked at him in the last month.

****

At first Stiles didn't think too much about it, since there was still drama and werewolf shenanigans and life getting in the way, but when the storm started to die down, instead of getting more one on one time with Derek, the Alpha seemingly avoided him. Which, yeah, if Stiles were being upfront he would totally understand the need to get away from him--he's kind of a pain in the ass, but he kept thinking about that night, kept thinking about how he'd wanted Derek to kiss him, kept thinking about how he’d said “yet” like a promise...or a threat.

****

Whatever confession Derek had made that night, whatever implied promises he made--they were in limbo if not dead and rotting in the heat of the moment. Especially since,  from what Stiles could see, he was back to his old uptight ways. Suddenly that auton theory didn't seem so half baked. In any case it would be more of an explanation than what he'd gotten, if you can count the cold shoulder as an explanation.

****

Tonight was one of those rare, few and far between nights where Stiles wasn’t required to be anywhere, didn’t have a pack meeting to sneak into, didn’t have homework to work on, and his dad was sitting in the kitchen working on a case that in no way interested Stiles. He could hear his dad playing one of Melanie Safka’s records, which meant it was one of _those_ cases, one of the ones that would later induce drinking and or binging on deep fried foods. He couldn’t tell which album it was from where he was in their living room, but he knew it was one of his moms.  Half of him wanted to pop his head in and find out which album was playing, the other half wanted to bury himself in the couch cushions until he couldn’t hear the music anymore. Choosing door number three, he decided to head up to his room.

****

If Stiles were the sappy type--which he is not--he would have sat down and written some really bad angsty poetry about how people shouldn’t be such asshats and actually follow through with the plans they may or may not have agreed to make. Really, like Stiles would do that though. Like, no.

****

Okay so that’s pretty much exactly what Stiles did, but he burned it afterwards. And burning in this situation means folding it up until it was too thick to fold anymore and shoving it in a box with the rest of his sappy poems and hiding it in his closet. Which seems pretty ironic since it was about a guy who he guesses he had feelings for. Past tense. Because crushes are stupid as fuck.

****

Thinking of stupid crushes, he pulled out his phone and sent off a text to Scott inquiring after his not-date-date with Isaac. Either Scott was blind or he was more oblivious than Stiles had originally thought because Lahey was basically eating out of Scott’s hand and Scott had been fretting to Stiles, thinking maybe Isaac was just messing with him. To be fair, it wasn’t really out of the realm of possibility, though the probability of that being the case was extremely low. Stiles saw the way Isaac looked at Scott, and you’d probably have to be blind in order to not see the way Scott looked back at him. It was nice to see him getting back in the saddle.  His last breakup with Allison, well, it had been pretty final according to Scott, and if Scott recognized it as over, it must have really been over. Stiles didn’t bring it up to Allison if/when he ever talked to her. She was going through her own mess of emotional stuff. She’d taken it pretty hard when her mom died, and then the fact that she pretty much was the reason Erica died--well, that just compounded her guilt. Then after everything with the Alpha pack and Gerard, everything was a mess for her.

****

_Dude. Not now._ Was the text that threw Stiles from his train of thought. Coming from Scott, it meant one of two things: _Not now, I’m in the middle of something (read: Isaac)_ or _Not now, I’m crying into my ice cream._ Maybe that second one was an exaggeration, but who was there to correct him? In all likelihood it was the first one, in which case he really didn’t want to know because _ugh_ happy people. Stiles (gently) threw his phone onto his bed in feigned disgust, as though Scott’s happiness would somehow seep through his text and infect Stiles with his cooties. The thought made Stiles stare at his phone with the sudden realization that he was actually a 5 year old.

****

His text notification went off again. If it was Scott, he didn’t want to know. If it was someone other than Scott, he really didn’t want to know. Really for someone who was looking for something to occupy his time he was really against letting anything occupy his time at all. Stiles grudgingly picked up his phone and looked at his new messages.

****

_Are you busy?_

****

Stiles’ heart was probably beating a mile a minute. _Probably_ , because he couldn’t actually feel it now it was all running together and wow he needed snap out of it.

****

He shakily tapped out a reply. _Yes._

****

His phone went off again moments later. _Liar._

****

He laughed then, not really because it was funny--it was in a way, but not in a laughter kind of way, maybe in a snort or chuckle kind of way--but because it was either laugh or cry or throw his phone out the window like he had wanted to when he saw who had sent him that text.

****

_And you’re a creep. What other obvious facts would you like to trade? I have a good one: asshole._

****

Stiles stared at the text he had typed with his thumb hovering over the send button. He wanted to send it, he wanted to, but it didn’t feel right. He edited it back a sentence and sent it.

****

_How about the fact I’ve been avoiding you?_

****

Stiles felt his cheeks fire up, his ears were probably red as well. He looked around the room for something, anything to take him away from the conversation he was having. _Yeah, that’s pretty obvious._

****

_I’m sorry._ Was the reply he got half a minute later. It took him a few minutes just to process what was even happening, let alone to type a reply.

**  
**_Liar._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um. So, guess what updated at 3:33 am. Guess who wrote this update at 3 am. Because I'm a loser??? I didn't mean for this to get angsty but I guess it has to get worse before it gets better? The plan now, I think, will be if not one more chapter after this, two. Because I can't leave this open ended forever. Sorry that it's like half the length of the first chapter. I AM SO CLOSE TO GRADUATING I CAN TASTE IT PLS BEAR WITH ME.
> 
> [EDIT: 8/4/13--IN THE NEXT WEEK I WILL UPDATE THIS]


End file.
